


Taking Time

by steelneena



Series: CR 2 Oneshots and Short Series [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, I sobbed for like 20 minutes. I've had the song on repeat. I'm a wreck, Wow i saw that animatic and I DIED, spoilers through session ep 45
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 06:09:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17074856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelneena/pseuds/steelneena
Summary: They’re running. They’re running hard and fast and they haven’t stopped to breathe once. It’s a storm building, brewing black and ominous on the horizon, chasing them down faster than they can sail away.Sooner or later, they’ll have to face it.





	Taking Time

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so I watched this today and I died.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oQvh0dnBZSg  
> This was the result.

“Do you want to see?”

“Yes. Yes. I want to see.”

* * *

First, Beau.

Her hands clench by her side. There’s copper in her mouth, a mean red gleam across her cheek and danger in the set of her jaw. She’s a radiant mess of sweat and breath and blood. Her fists connect with the person in front of her, pummeling flesh like stone into chalk, pent up frustration leaking from her with each aggravated grunt and yell. A whirlwind of distemper, her every anguish pushes forth, roiling off her in waves, as if she could change the movement of the world with a single hit.

* * *

Jester, next.

Her smile is wavering, her eyes well with tears. Her conviction wavers; in love, in faith, in everything. She’s forgetful and melancholic and overly joyous at turns like the very waves of the ocean that she watched from her window so long. Perfectly put together, pushing the image, manufactured and manipulated, so no one sees the breakage beneath. Her bright spots of true happiness marred by the deep and crushing reminders of isolation, of loneliness, of abandonment, and displacement.

* * *

Fjord.

Growing reckless and bold with the heady rush of power, the insidious seductive allure of its physical embodiment finds its way to him over and over again, pushing him to consume, to provoke, to learn, to grow in all the wrong ways. He’s drowning in the desire and curiosity, not born of want so much as fear. Fear of repeating the past, fear of failing, of letting the others down. The burden falls heavy on his shoulders, a burden he doesn’t know how to bear. He’s trying valiantly. It’s going to kill him if he doesn’t stop soon.

* * *

Nott, then.

Her instincts take over. Kind hands, real and metaphysical both, seeking retribution caress those around her, even when they can’t feel it, yet she saves no such softness for herself. It is visible in the way she recklessly throws herself before the others, unwilling to abandon them, unwilling to leave them behind, unwilling to let anyone hurt. It’s in her ever word, in every quiet moment. Weighing on her the racial guilt, the emotional toll. To be useful, needed, no matter what. To make up for some perceived lack.

* * *

Caleb’s a hard read.

Caleb is disgust one minute, flagrant self-hatred like a gleaming beacon on the shore and removed, cool calculation the next. He marionettes them all, forgetting that he cares until its too late. And then, he takes the dagger to his own chest and tells himself that it is necessary. That it is required. That it is penance and justice and right. That he is worth nothing compared to the mission. And yet, he falters. He aches to let himself care, denies that he already does. A mess of contradiction. A mess of a man. He fires a bolt of flame and the rush of elation is mirrored by the rush of fear. What has he become? What is he turning into?

* * *

All alone, is Yasha.

Failure. She’s always been the one who protects. It seems not to be working the way it ought to most of the time. She’s never there when she needs to be. It’s all in the timing, and she can never seem to get it right. Rage sparks and glows behind her eyes, but she keeps it within as much as she can. The outlets are there, and she takes advantage when she can, but the call is always resounding in her ears and she’s trapped, trapped, stagnant and yearning to be moving on and forward and doing something, anything. Alone. Always leaving or left behind.

* * *

“You wanted to see.”

“I did.”

They’re running. They’re running hard and fast and they haven’t stopped to breathe once. It’s a storm building, brewing black and ominous on the horizon, chasing them down faster than they can sail away.

Sooner or later, they’ll have to face it.

Sooner or later.

His heart breaks, yearns, reaches.

“I want to help them.”

“You already have.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

“These things take time.”

* * *

Things take time.

* * *

Caduceus is new.

He tries, but he doesn’t understand. And too much is new to him. He’s overwhelmed, just trying to take care of himself, to push through his fears and the onset of tthoroughly unanticipated trauma. It’s distressing really to watch how hard he’s trying to keep these people he doesn’t really know together. He’s been around them a considerable while now and he can see their hearts of hearts, but it’s a give and take and while he’s giving, the others aren’t taking. They’ve made no effort to meet him halfway. They’re closed off, nursing bruises and scrapes on their own while he watches with large, sad eyes and open arms that remain empty most of the time. He’s used to comforting others, but what can he do when they don’t want to be comforted?

* * *

They fight a dragon.

He watches.

They’re never together. They’re always hopping in and out and around, never there all at once and something in him is breaking, breaking because that’s how it happened the last time. That’s what set them on this course.

 _You’re strongest together, please **please**_ **,** he yearns to call out, but he’s only the murmur of a wind through the chamber walls.

* * *

They live. It’s a near thing.

Yasha’s silence is stony. Fjord looks weary. Beau sags against the rail of the ship. Jester is absent of all light and liveliness. But for once, Caleb is holding Nott close as Caduceus looks on silently.

They speak for a bit, they cool down.

The next day, when they are all together, quiet and uncomfortable, Beau breaks the silence at the same time as Nott.

Nott lets her speak.

“I want to talk about Molly.” She says.

* * *

Watching them, he smiles. Finally.  

They’ll get there. It just takes time.

**Author's Note:**

> RIP my purple bae.


End file.
